His breathing changed, his heart did a double beat and she smiled to herself. He shifted, widened his legs, allowing her to skim the bulge at his crotch more boldly.
She cupped him. His balls filled her hand, already tight and hard with want of release. Literally, she held all the power of his world in the palm of her hand. It was heady, exciting and leveled them.
She had what he wanted and he wanted it bad.
Jaye had the power to give, to refuse, to control each moment they shared.
She tested the length of him, the breadth of him. He was thick rather than over long and would stretch her wide when he finally entered her. She’d open as wide as she could, as wide as she was able, but he’d demand more, his rim plowing in, pressing her walls open. Her moisture gathered. She imagined it thick and slippery on the head of his penis. Saw her tongue, licking, swirling across the head, down the shaft and up again. He’d have to be wet to enter her. From the dampness in her panties, that wouldn’t be a problem.
Her hand stilled in his lap while his breathing became labored. She heard his heart do a jackhammer imitation and his strokes on her arm were no longer casual. He’d switched to a sensuous rhythm. The heat in the car had become unbearable. He adjusted the air conditioning at an armrest control.
Neither of them spoke. He was on hold, his cock straining against the material of his slacks. He drew her down to his lap, her mouth an inch from his cock hidden behind a thin slip of zipper and fine cloth.
His palm moved from her upper arm to the back of her head. It rested there, not coaxing, not insisting, not asking. But waiting.
She palmed the zipper that held his secrets at bay. Her breath joined his in a rapid tattoo.
“If we do this now, will we even get on the jet?”
“I don’t renege on deals. Two weeks. Fourteen nights. France, England, Arizona, anywhere else you want to go, I’ll take you.”
She trusted him.
She found the tab of his zipper, pulled it down tooth by tooth, waiting for some sign of encouragement or dissuasion.
She got nothing.
Outwardly.
But under her ear his heart thundered. His breath caught with each downward stroke of the zipper.
She ran out of teeth.
The zipper opened and she spread it wide, slipped one finger inside and recognized the grind of his hipbones as he tried to hold himself from pressing up into her hand.
“Don’t move. Not one bit,” she ordered.
He nodded.
“I want to do this my way.”
He nodded again, but she felt his heat rise. He managed to contain himself while Jaye took an unreasonable pride in her own ability to slow to a snail’s pace. Never had she taken this kind of tortuous journey into a man’s pants. Never had a man allowed her to take this kind of time.
But Alex was different. He seemed to understand this was a beginning, new for each of them.
They had two weeks to take turns being the aggressor. A thrill ran through her as she wondered how he’d pay her back for this torture. Would he hold her on the edge of orgasm until she begged? Or would he just give her more and more orgasms until she was wrung out? Either way, she looked forward to the time when he would set the pace.
All the possible fantasies played out in her mind’s eye, each one more arousing than the last. Her skin heated, moisture built between her legs, her breath quickened.
She slid one finger under the flap of his fly.
Silk boxers.
Cool to the touch, but a barrier breached in a blink. She felt his surprise at the sudden hurry. He’d probably expected her to caress the silk, to torture him a little more, but she was fighting her own demons now. Her need to feel the satin of his head was overcoming her. Besides, she wanted to keep the pace to her own liking and right now, she wanted fast.
The heat of his penis bloomed against her fingertip, the smooth rubbery tip of his head enticed her to touch more. She slid her finger to the tip, surprised by the early bead of moisture she found. She spread it around the slit of his cock then pulled her finger out to taste it.
Nectar. She slicked the juice across the front of her teeth and licked it off again.
“Mmm. Delicious.”
He jerked in his seat at the sound of her voice. The hand on her head twitched in her hair, his fingers clenched tendrils. The sudden tug only served to enhance her pleasure. Stimulated, she now used two fingers on the treasure lying a mere breath away from her mouth.
She traced either side of his shaft with two open fingers, keeping the pressure light for three strokes from base to tip, then increased it slowly for three more. She propped her thumb into the apex of her fingers and began the assault on his shaft again, using her thumb on all the pressure points as she moved languidly to the tip of his head again.
He squirmed in the seat but said nothing. Good. He understood she was the one who gave the orders this time.
To give him more to squirm about, she licked her palm, gave her thumb and two fingers special attention, getting them wet and slippery. She slid her hand inside once more. He sucked in a breath at the assault of wet fingers and thumb. When she found a new bead of moisture at his tip, she wanted to open the tab of his pants and take him in her mouth, but stopped short. “I’m thinking of sliding my mouth along your cock, but I won’t. It would be too easy to give you want you want.”
He groaned.
She undid the button, spread open his pants and the slit in his boxers, and coaxed his burgeoning penis into the light.
Less than two inches from her face, his manhood rose, thick and full veined, turgid with hot, yearning life-force.
She ignored his cock to slide one finger below to stroke through the velvety hair warming his scrotum. His balls contracted with her touch. Each testicle was a perfect sphere, cocooned in his sac, waiting, waiting, waiting for the demand nature placed on it. Jaye answered the glorious call, as women had always responded.
She cupped and squeezed and held and tickled. She stroked, crooned, and finally, finally, set the tip of her tongue to his sac.
His balls were so tight the hair stood on end. He’d long since given up any semblance of control. His breath ragged, his hand clenched rhythmically in her hair, nearing the level that would bring pain. Still she hesitated, blew soft puffs of air onto them, swirled her tongue to the base of his shaft.
He twined her hair around his cock and tugged it tight to his skin, hoping, straining for relief. For release.
“No, you’re not coming in my hair.”
“In your mouth, then.”
“Maybe.”
“Now.”
She let go of his balls, let him see her lips, wet from exploring him. His cock had dripped semen onto his silk boxers. She set her fingertip to the spot, then to his lips. He tasted himself, drew her finger into his mouth. Lapped at it.
Tension arced between them. She shuddered, knew she would lose this contest of wills. In truth, no longer wanted to win.
In a move that startled her he pressed his hand between her legs. Fingers on each side of her labia he shimmied her delicate flesh and moved against her dampened lap.
She bit back a murmured curse. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Witch,” he said.
“You’ve got that right. Now, watch me.”
She dropped her head into his lap and put the flat of her tongue at the base of his cock. She swirled her way up to the tip in one long slow stroke. He shook in his seat, strained into her mouth, held her head.
“Shit!”
She raised her head and looked at him. “What?”
“We’re here.”
“Shit!”
The car stopped. She heard Carl open his door, walk to the trunk and off-loaded the luggage. Hers: two backpacks and Tina’s suitcase. His: three pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage.
Chapter Three
On unsteady legs, Jaye climbed the stairs to the jet’s passenger door. Inside, a brand new world more lux
urious even than the limo, greeted her. Alex followed close behind, his hand skimming lightly down her ass as she moved ahead of him. His essence lingered in her nostrils. The taste of him still flowed across her tongue, his mind-blowing control making her weak.
The limo’s luxury had nothing on the Lear’s. What Alex had called bench seats were actually leather sofas. They lined each side of the passenger cabin left of the door. Through a tight doorway she saw the cockpit. A million gauges waited to be powered up. But still, it seemed unbelievable that a jet this size could cross the Atlantic.
Nerves made her neck prickle in alarm. To keep her mind off the coming trip she walked toward the back of the cabin, through the efficient galley he’d mentioned. She peeked into the bedroom.
She half expected to see satin bed coverings but the décor surprised her. A navy blue cotton duvet with bright white pillow shams covered the low lying bed. Simple but masculine. Short square side tables made up the only other furnishings. Lighting came from running lights at the base of the bed. Unobtrusive, the lighting provided enough illumination to see, but not enough to read by. This was not a room to do anything in but sleep, or make love.
The idea of lovemaking for the entire duration of their flight to Paris set her heart to double speed. Yes, she wanted this, yes, she wanted Alex, yes, she wanted slow, quality time to get to know the man in every sense.
She turned to Alex and found Carl the limo driver behind him with their luggage. He was at least twenty years older than Alex, and they shared some physical characteristics, like the breadth of their shoulders, their brow ridge and chin. Carl efficiently stowed their bags in two overhead compartments then moved forward to the cockpit and closed the door behind him without a word. Correction: Carl the limo driver/pilot/relative.
“What else does Carl take care of?”
“He travels with me. Handles everything but investments.”
“Cool.” She nodded, then opened the tiny refrigerator under the counter in the galley and found it well-stocked with fruit, cheese, cold cuts and vegetables. “I guess you need a lot of help. Staff, that kind of thing.”
The wine was kept in a separate wine fridge. At least, that’s what it looked like to her. A wine rack inside a refrigerator. “This is nice.”
“Very. We’re alone, which is even better,” he said from behind her. “Happy?”
“Yes.” She sighed and moved close, turning into his arms.
A long hard kiss from him had her thoughts whirling, her heart beating loud enough to drown out the soft moans she made in the back of her throat. He pressed her hips into the counter at her back, his cock sliding across her mons, titillating her. She melted into her panties and tried to hitch herself up to sit on the counter, but a sudden whine from the engine and rumble from the jet made her freeze.
“Are we taking off?”
“Taxiing,” he said between nibbles on her ear. She fought the rising fear, wanting to lose herself in sensation, but lost the battle. Fear won.
Fierce arousal danced across his features, but when she went rigid in his arms, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m frightened.”
“Of me?”
“Of flying in such a small aircraft.”
“Jaye, this jet is one of the largest Lear makes for private use.”
She nodded. “Okay, my head knows that now, but my stomach doesn’t. Mind if we take our seats?”
“Of course, you’re right. We need to be strapped in for takeoff.”
“Ooh, all those buckles,” she said with a provocative grin, hoping the tease would help her deal with her nerves. She trailed her fingers across the front of his slacks as she filed past him.
“You really are a witch.”
Alex settled into his seat across from her, certain he’d lost brain cells in the back seat of the limo. He’d never been so thoroughly teased and left hanging.
Jaye’s eyes glowed, but he couldn’t read whether she was happy or still afraid. “This jet is state of the art.”
“Good to know,” she said, looking flushed. He wanted her flushed, but from arousal, not fear.
She was trying hard not to stare at the jet’s personalized attributes, but her wide, glittery eyes gave her away. Her lips opened with each breath and he could see her mind working to catalogue every accouterment that he took for granted.
She found the bunker under her seat that contained headphones and personal gaming devices. She pulled out the remote control that operated the overhead television and a stash of movie disks.
“You’ve got releases I’ve never heard of.”
“Friends send me advance copies.”
“You know movie stars?” Her voice went soft as the realization struck.
“Not many. Production companies are always looking for backers, though, so I know some people from behind the cameras.” He smiled at her delighted expression. “I met them through our mutual interest in cars, mostly. The world of car collectors is tight. That’s why I was surprised we’d never met before.”
She nodded, and he saw her try again to pull back on her enthusiasm.
The jet began to taxi and her fingers gripped her knees.
“Your hands will cramp if you hold on that tight,” he said.
“I’m nervous. I’ve never flown in such a small jet.”
“So you said,” he waved his hand to indicate the quiet of the cabin, “but on the plus side there are no babies crying. No line for the washroom.”
“No peanuts? I’m really going to miss those peanuts.” Her voice was tight with nerves, but her hands smoothed her thighs as she tried to relax.
He laughed. “You’re doing great. We’ll talk to keep your mind off take-off. Will that help?”
She nodded. “So, tell me what you do,” she asked, “aside from buying and selling classic cars and jetting off to Europe with strange women.”
“You’re not strange, you’re exotic.” He knew bitter women who’d been hurt and left for younger women. In his circle there were dilettantes who dabbled in careers and women who jockeyed for social position. But he knew no one quite like Jaye. “Exotic doesn’t begin to describe you.”
“Exotic?” She chuffed out a breath. “I’m as ordinary as you can get. I work, I raise my son, although I think I’m pretty much finished there, and I go to night school. Pretty boring.”
“You’re anything but boring.”
She shrugged. “I have to work, pay the rent, save for my own house. The classes are mostly for fun. Keeps my mind off other things.”
“Like?”
“Men and sex.”
“What’s wrong with thinking about sex?” He’d been hard-pressed to think of anything else since he’d first seen her yesterday.
“Nothing right now. In fact, that’s about all I’m thinking of.” She tilted her head and looked surprised that she’d admit such a thing. Warmed, he found himself even more curious about her.
“You’re a bookkeeper. Will these two weeks be listed under assets or liabilities?” He teased her with a light touch from her wrist to her elbow.
“This time will be in the ‘seriously fun’ column.”
“Isn’t serious fun an oxymoron? How does that work?”
“As in I’m overdue for some fun.” Her hands eased up on her knees. He saw the white in her knuckles disappear as blood flowed back into her hands. Good.
“So,” she continued, “I’m going to focus on everything that feels good, tastes good, looks good.”
She still hadn’t said what he hoped to hear. “And when we’re done?” he asked.
“We’re done,” she replied in a firm tone, which eased his mind. He didn’t want her to expect more.
“Besides,” she said, “I have responsibilities to my son, and the businesses I work for. Carving two weeks out of my schedule wasn’t easy.”
“You planned on doing something else with this time?”
She grinned. “Well, yeah. It’s not like I planned o
n meeting an Alex and being swept off my feet, now, is it?” She chuckled, but it sounded forced. He heard an underlying tension as the jet picked up speed and hurtled along the runway.
The rumble from the tarmac changed and Jaye clamped onto her knees again. “I had planned to go to my cousin’s wedding then spend my time off wandering New York. But that didn’t work out,” she raised her voice over the noise of take-off.
“When we climb to cruising altitude we can release our seatbelts.”
She nodded, clearly nervous. “Can we get out of our clothes then, too?”
“For a woman who can make a man dangerous with slow teasing you’re in a shocking hurry,” he said, with a tattoo beating in his chest.
“I really need to get my mind off the size of this jet. I was better on the large one I took to New York.”
“Hmm, I wonder how I can get your mind off flying and back on me?”
Her eyes flared. “Talk to me?” she suggested in a breathy tone.
“That could be…fun. Serious fun.” He thought of the torture she’d put him through in the limo. But a nervous woman needed time to adjust, to engage her mind. “Since your mind’s on sex when it’s not on your fear of flying we’ll talk about that.”
“Okay.” She looked hesitant but game.
“I’ll start. Back there,” he nodded his head toward the bedroom, “we’ll begin with a series of long slow kisses, gentle nibbles along your neck, I think, right there where it’s flushed.” Her eyes widened, then looked toward the cockpit.
“The door’s closed. Carl won’t enter the passenger cabin when I have a guest.”
The intercom buzzed. “Yes, Carl.”
“We’re heading into some turbulence. You should stay seated and buckled in.”
“Will do.”
Her eyes were frightened now. “Don’t worry, Carl’s an excellent pilot and this jet is state-of-the-art,” he reminded her gently.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“You must keep your seatbelt on and stay in your seat. I’ll do all the talking. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Kissing you.”
He chuckled when he saw her realization that he was going to talk his way through a seduction. His cock came to attention as his blood rushed again, a curious sensation inside the pressurized cabin. “I think when I get to the valley between your breasts I’ll lick you there for a long time. But not the nipples, no that would be too quick. I’ll just lick the sides, almost to the peaks. The nipples will have to wait for later.”
Stroke of Midnight Page 3
